


Set a Fire in Our Flesh

by Fritillary



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Insanity, Minor Character Death, Murder-Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritillary/pseuds/Fritillary
Summary: So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion.





	Set a Fire in Our Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal, originally written 3/Oct/2009
> 
> prompt: #167 - antapology (tamingthemuse )  
> Warnings: spoilers for Return of the King, mentions of character death, insanity, suicide, attempted murder, use of movie-script.

We will light a fire in our flesh. Denethor and Faramir shall burn - a funeral pyre like that of the ancient Kings of Middle Earth, long before the founding of Gondor's realm. Gondor deserves not to be remembered - for it has fallen to the Dark Lord in this broken Age. I have made sure however, that we shall not be associated with the ruined white city and its lands, but as a line greater than the wasted, watered blood of Isildur. 

Never did I think to outlive my children. When their mother died, I often caught our youngest son weeping, and I thought him weak. He showed none of his brother's strength - a shy, delicate child, who spent his hours of study daydreaming and enraging many of the most expensive tutors I could call to attend to him. Often I thought to send him away; make a man of him.

"If I should return, think better of me, Father." 

My eyes, already aching with the fumes of the oil soaking into the wooden staves below us, itch stronger as I remember my son's last words. I had thought to deny his line of descent when he rode out to recover the lost garrison of Osgiliath, but now I see he shall live on beyond these mortal halls, in as great a glory as our fathers before us. Friends in Rohan once spoke of white shores and green rolling hills, grass that waved in the gentle wind under a shining sun; lands beyond waking eyes or mortal feet. We shall enter this new world as great men, me and my sons.


End file.
